Lights, Bright, White
by EdwardsWeasley
Summary: After a case she's working goes wrong, Hermione Weasley wakes up in the hospital, her memories gone. Can she relearn the details of her life and fall in love with her husband again?
1. Chapter 1

**Lights. Bright. White.**

_Summary_: After a case she's working goes wrong, Hermione Weasley wakes up in the hospital, her memories gone. Can she relearn the details of her life and fall in love with her husband again?

_Disclaimer: _I do not own, nor do I claim any rights to, Harry Potter or any associated themes, characters, places, or plots. This is for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this story. Not copyright infringement is intended.

_Author's Note: _This story was inspired by the trailer for the movie _The Vow_ (which I also do not own). Naturally, I want to see the film, and I liked the story line. I figured why not spin my own tale using my two favorite characters?

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE: The Hospital<strong>

Lights. Bright. White.

The woman's thoughts were unintelligible, and she struggled to form a complete sentence. She tried to open her eyes, but the lights burned and she moaned. As the sound escaped her lips, she heard shuffling coming from… _somewhere_. She suddenly realized she did not know where she was. Or more importantly, _who_ she was. She moaned again and attempted to open her eyes once more. She blinked twice, trying to focus. She thought she heard a voice, but she ignored it as she concentrated on lights. _If only they weren't so bright_, she thought. Finally, her eyes began to focus and she looked for the source of the light. She was expecting to see long, florescent light bulbs but found none. She frowned in confusion and then remembered the voice. She moved her own lips, ready to speak.

"Hermione?" The voice interrupted her. It was a man's voice. She momentarily thought it was her father, but the voice was not as gruff and it was much younger sounding. "Hermione…" it repeated, and this time she noticed a sense of worry.

She opened her lips again and tried to form a response, but the words were lost. She only managed a soft groan. She heard shuffling again and tried to turn her head, looking for the man. However, she could not move her neck. Panic rushed through her veins and she blinked her eyes several times, trying to figure out what to do. _Why can't I move?_

"Somebody!" The man was yelling. She heard a door open. "Somebody get a healer please!" There was urgency in his voice and his tone only increased her panic. Something had to be very wrong if this man sounded so scared. A moment later, the woman heard more shuffling and realized it was the sound of many pairs of feet rushing into the room. There were more voices, shouting out orders to check vitals and temperatures. She tried in vain to move her head, desperately trying to take in the people around her.

"Mr. Weasley," one of the voices reprimanded. "Please, we need room."

_Mr. Weasley? Who in the bloody hell was Mr. Weasley?_ She closed her eyes, trying to think. This name only confused her more and she did the only thing she could do—groan in frustration. She felt herself being poked and prodded in various spots and the voices were whispering weird words she had never heard.

Maybe she was just having a bizarre dream. _That has to be it. Just a dream. _She tried to reach a hand up to pinch the opposite arm, but someone was holding her hands down. _Wake up. Just wake up._

"Vitals are fine," someone was saying. "But she is still in distress." The woman tried moving her arms again, and the person who was holding her tightened their grip.

"Adams, give her the potion." _The potion? _She made a noise of protest.

"It's okay, Mrs. Weasley. Just have a sip of this." A woman's voice this time, caring and light. She felt two hands on the side of her head as a glass jar was pushed to her lips. She tried to resist. She did not know who this Mrs. Weasley was, and she certainly was not going to drink some kind of potion. However, without the use of her neck and arms, she was powerless. The liquid tingled as it flowed down her throat, and before she could form another thought, everything went black.

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><p>When the woman awoke sometime later, it was much easier to open her eyes. The lights were still there, but did not burn against her pupils so harshly. The first thing she tried to do was move her neck, but it was still impossible. Not yet wanting to admit defeat, she wiggled her fingers. Her lips twisted into a small smile and she lifted her arms high into the air. This victory caused her to laugh triumphantly. She brought her fingers to her head, trying to determine what was rending her neck useless. She expected to find a neck brace or some other kind of constraint, but frowned when she felt nothing but skin and hair. Knowing it was impossible, she again tried to turn to the right and then to the left, but her neck remained stiff.<p>

She sighed heavily and placed her arms back by her sides. _Okay_, she told herself. _White lights. White ceiling. I'm in a bed, aren't I? I can't move my neck and there were people here, checking my vitals. _A hospital. She was in a hospital. _Of course. I must have been in an accident. _But, what kind of accident? She felt the muscles in her forehead constrict as she struggled to remember. There was nothing though. Nothing before the memories of waking up the first time in this strange room. Her mind was blank. Aggravated she tried to scream, but the attempt hurt, straining the muscles in her neck. Instead, the noise came out as a croak and the sound startled her.

"_It's okay, Mrs. Weasley," one of the voices had told her. _They had to have had her confused with someone else. She certainly was not this Mrs. Weasley as they had called her. She was… well, who _was_ she? _Hermione_, the man had called her. _Hermione, Hermione, Hermione_, she repeated in her head. Somehow, Hermione sounded more familiar than Mrs. Weasley. She closed her eyes tightly, concentrating on the name the man had called her. The white room began to fade, pulling her away.

_A girl, maybe three, her brown curls bouncing on her shoulders as she ran around the lawn. A man and a woman, holding their arms out for her, laughing. She crashed into their arms and dissolved into a fit of giggles._

_The same little girl, older this time, a book lying across her lap. The older woman, the young girl's mother, was turning the pages of the book. The girl's eyes were wide as she listened intently to the tale. The girl squealed in delight when the pages sprung to life, an elaborate castle materializing in front of her. "A castle, for my princess," the woman said, placing a kiss on top of the girl's head._

_A school this time. The girl was sitting at her desk, scribbling away at her paper in fury. There were other children around her, laughing, taunting. She did not look up at them, her eyes staying firmly on the paper. The boys were pointing, obviously making the girl the topic of their latest joke. The girl's eyes squeezed shut, concentrating. Her face twisted in anger, only causing the laughs to increase. They knew they were affecting her. The girl stopped writing, and opened her eyes, glaring at the bullies. In the next moment, the classroom's windows shattered and the students screamed, scattering in all directions._

_The train station was busy, people rushing by quickly. The girl stood with her parents, a cart resting in front of them. They were standing in front of the brick barrier between platforms nine and ten. They were all glancing at each other quizzically, unsure of what to do. The girl wanted to ask a passerby, but they were all too busy looking at their watches and shoving passed others. She looked to her father for guidance. The man finally nodded, having made his decision, and placed a hand on his daughter's shoulder. The trio took off in a run, headed towards the wall. _

The woman opened her eyes quickly, not wanting to witness the outcome. Had that girl been her? She certainly looked familiar, as had the older man and woman. She could not be sure. She was not sure of anything at this point. She was especially confused by the last scene, the one where the family had been running towards the barrier. She closed her eyes again, braving the next scene, but none came. She tried to imagine the girl again, starting from the beginning, running in the lawn. Nothing. The little girl was gone. She sighed in defeat.

The door opened, the loud creak pulling her from her thoughts. She heard the feet shuffle slowly across the floor, she knew, headed for her. She tensed, recalling the _potion_ someone had force feed her before. She knew it had knocked her out and she wanted nothing more to do with it. Her eyes were still tightly closed, still desperate to see the girl. But, she felt the presence of the intruder over her and she bravely chanced a peak.

Red. The first thing she saw when she opened her eyes was the bright, red hair of a man. Was this the man who had been by her side when she had awoken the first time. She did not recognize him. His eyes were closed and he was breathing softly. _How odd_, the woman thought. She did not immediately question why he was standing over her, eyes closed. Instead, she took the opportunity to study the rest of his features.

He was pale, but not overly so. His complexion highlighted the freckles that littered his face. His nose was long and pointed, his lips thin. He was not _unattractive_, but he certainly was not _gorgeous_. His red hair was tousled, as if he had run his fingers through it much too often. Her eyes trailed to his neck and she watched his Adam's apple raise and fall as he swallowed. She waited for him to move. He was making her extremely uncomfortable. After all, she still did not understand _why_ she was in the hospital, and she certainly did not appreciate this stranger in her room, hovering over her.

She looked to his face again, because, frankly, she did not have anywhere else to look. She did not have the luxury of turning to find something more interesting, and the man's head was blocking the lights. She would have like to look at the lights again, remembering they were not coming from light bulbs. She had not realized she had been staring at his eyelids until they suddenly flew open and she was startled by the beautiful, blue color. She gasped, his eyes piercing into hers, but instead of feeling fear, she felt a weird sense of comfort.

"_Hermione!_" The man exclaimed. Perhaps she was this _Hermione. _A smile broke out on his face, his freckles stretching across his cheeks. "You're _awake_."

Shocked by his enthusiasm, she merely nodded, agreeing with his simple statement. _Very bright, this one_, she thought sarcastically.

The man opened and closed his mouth a few times and she thought he was going to fling himself on her. When he did not make a move or speak for several moments, the woman sighed impatiently. Finally, she decided to take matters into her own hands and get straight to the point.

"_Who _are you?" she asked.

The man's mouth closed quickly, a frown replacing his smile. He took a small step backwards. She saw the sadness invade his features, and for a moment, she felt awful for being so blunt. She shook it off quickly though. It was not her fault he was trying talking to someone he did not know!

"Hermione, it's me, Ron." He said it with such earnest, his voice pleading with her.

"Ron?" she repeated. The man nodded. This was not the clarification she had been hoping for. Again, she asked, "Who are you?"

If possible, his face fell even farther. "It's me, Hermione. Your husband."

_Husband?_ Her head began to spin. _Hermione. Ron. Husband._ She shut her eyes tightly, willing this strange man to go away. The little girl appeared again, playing with a baby doll. She was giggling softly and the woman tried to hold onto the scene. She could not be _married_. She was only a little girl. A little girl of only three, playing with her dolls. _"It's me, Hermione. Your husband. Husband. Husband._ The scene of the little girl began to disappear, replaced with a much older woman. Her hair was identical to the young girl's—the same brown color, the same thick curls. But, this woman did not have a doll in her hands. Instead, she was standing in front of a full length mirror, clothed in a beautiful, lace _wedding_ gown. The young woman in the scene had a wide smile on her face and a shine in her brown eyes.

_Married. Husband. Ron._

She opened her eyes, the red-headed man appearing above her. He seemed to have composed himself, a look of concern now evident. He reached his hand out, attempting to stroke her hair.

"_NO!_" she shrieked, attempting once more to move her head. To her surprise, as well as the man's, her head jerked quickly to the right, away from his fingers. He made a noise and in a second, dashed to the door, calling again for the people.

"Healer Jones," she heard him yell. "Come quickly."

As she heard the footsteps approaching, she felt hot, wet tears flow down her face. She had not realized she was crying.

"Mrs. Weasley," it was the woman's voice again. She did not turn her head again, refusing to address the people who had entered the room.

"Don't call me that," she told the wall harshly. "I have no knowledge of this Mrs. Weasley you speak of."

There was a sharp intake of breath. "Very well." The warm tone had turned cool. "Regardless of what you would like to be called, it is very important you turn your head back into a straight position."

"No, thank you," she replied curtly.

"Miss," a man's voice this time, but not the man who claimed to be her husband. "We must insist. You can either oblige, or we can do this by force."

The man who claimed to be her husband began to protest. "I'll _oblige_," she began, cutting him off, "when someone tells me what the bloody hell is going on!"

Although she could not witness the exchange the people in her room shared, she knew they were quietly conversing about her. The silence was so tense, she knew she had struck a chord. There was an unspoken argument occurring around her.

"Oh, get on with it, then," the red-head ordered. He did not sound happy, and for some reason, it pleased her.

"There was an accident," the other man started. "A spell gone wrong, we believe. We're not sure if you were targeted, or if this is a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong—"

She cut him off. "A spell?" She turned her head to the left now, to face her audience. They all opened their mouths, she was sure to tell her to stop moving her head. She did not care. "A _spell_?" she repeated more forcefully.

The men exchanged looks, but did not indulge her further. The second man, she noticed, was dark skinned with short, curly hair. He looked at the other woman. _Adams_, she thought her name was. He waved her forward as he turned to the red-head man.

"Mr. Weasley," he said quietly. "Can I have a word with you?"

She watched as they stepped away from the bed, towards a corner of the room. The woman approached her, and sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"Miss," she said, "do you not remember anything?"

She looked at this woman, narrowing her eyes. _What a stupid question_, she thought. But, perhaps it was not so stupid after all. She did not remember, did she? As she carefully shook her head, the woman began to speak, attempting to explain why she had found her way into this room. However, she was not listening, her eyes finding the two men as she struggled to listen in on their conversation.

The dark-skinned man was speaking first, in a rushed whisper. "Mr. Weasley," he addressed. "I'm afraid this is much worse than we originally anticipated."

The red-head, her—her husband, did not immediately respond. She watched his face as it twisted into several different emotions at once—worry, guilt, fear, anger, sadness. "What can we do? She has to remember _something_. Anything."

"Unfortunately, there is not much that can be done. Even with magic." _Magic? _Now she knew this must be a dream.

"I—I just don't understand. Yesterday morning she was fine. Fine!" He raised his voice slightly. "We were laughing and joking before I left for work. She had kissed me, telling me to be safe, and she would see me for dinner. How could this have happened? I should have been there!" He seemed to deflate in that moment and the other man put his hand on his companion's shoulder, steading him.

"I'm extremely sorry, Ron," he said, the air of professionalism dissolving. "I wish I had a better answer. You know that." The red-head, Ron, nodded, but appeared unconvinced.

"What happens next?"

"I think it's best if she spends the rest of the night here. We'll continue to monitor her to make sure everything is all right."

"All right?" Ron said, sarcasm in his voice. "Dean, she's not _all right_!"

"I understand how you feel, Ron, I do. But, if she is okay physically, we have no reason to keep her. We cannot _legally_ keep her here. You'll be able to take her home in the morning."

Ron shook his head but did not say any more. He hung his head in defeat as Dean turned and walked toward the woman again.

"Well, Mrs. Wea—I mean—" He was not quite sure how to address her. "Well, at any rate, I would be correct in assuming that Healer Adams has tried her best to explain to you how and why you found yourself here?" She merely nodded, still not quite hearing what he was saying. She was still hearing his final sentence to the red-head man. _You'll be able to take her home in the morning._

_Home_, she thought. _Where exactly was _home_?_

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><p><em>Author's Note:<em> Well, there you have it. This will be a short story, five or six chapters. It will focus on Ron's determination to restore Hermione's memories. And no, they will not be able to do it by magic. And, no, you will not get a large explanation for how Hermione lost her memories. The story will focus on their relationship and nothing more.

Please **review** and let me know what you think and if you would like me to continue to post.

_**F.Y.I. **_For those of you reading my other stories, I will still be updating weekly _I Never Knew You_, along with this story. Readers of _Lost in Love_, unfortunately, I am having serious problems with my plot line. I am contemplating taking it down to rework it. Please check my profile page for updates.


	2. Chapter 2

**Lights. Bright. White.**

_Summary_: After a case she's working goes wrong, Hermione Weasley wakes up in the hospital, her memories gone. Can she relearn the details of her life and fall in love with her husband again?

_Disclaimer: _I do not own, nor do I claim any rights to, Harry Potter or any associated themes, characters, places, or plots. This is for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this story. Not copyright infringement is intended.

_Author's Note: _Thank you for those of you who reviewed Chapter One. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO: Miss Granger<strong>

"I'm just not sure I can do this," the man said.

"It's not going to be easy," the second man agreed.

"Where do I start?"

"The basics, I suppose."

A strangled laugh. "You make it sound so simple."

"I'm sorry." A pause. "Just take it slow. You don't want to overwhelm her. Let her work at her own pace."

"Yes, but what about the—"

The woman opened her eyes, now aware that the voices were not in her dreams, but coming from the two men standing in her hospital room. She blinked several times, trying to remember when she had fallen asleep. _Lights, bright and white, _she thought, as she looked to the ceiling. Memories from the night before—_had it been _last _night? _she wondered—came back to her. _A red-haired man, claiming to be her husband. A potion. An accident. A spell… _She groaned in frustration.

"Hermione, you're awake."

_Hermione_. She squinted at the men, immediately recognizing the red-head from the night before. His companion, a dark-haired man she could not recall being there before, was standing close to the door. He gave her a weak smile when she looked at him. She tried to return it, but her muscles strained, and instead, she pulled herself into an upright position. As an afterthought, she turned her head several times, recalling that she had been unable to do so before.

"Where am I?" she asked, although she already knew part of the answer.

"The hospital." This was the part she had already known.

"Yes, but _where_?"

"St. Mungo's," the red-head replied. _Ron, I think his name is._

"St. Mungo's," she repeated. She searched her brain. _St. Mungo's._ She had never heard of this hospital before. Was she still in London? Finally, she said, "Yes, but _where_ is St. Mungo's?"

Ron looked to the other man, pleading with him with his eyes. When the other man merely shrugged his shoulders, Ron replied, "I thought—I thought Healer Adams told you last night?" He sounded very nervous.

The woman shook her head. "No…" she trailed, but did not elaborate. She closed her eyes for a moment. If Healer Adams was the woman from before, then perhaps she did try to tell her _something_ last night, but she had been too concerned with the other conversation in the room. "I mean, I hadn't been listening."

The dark-haired man chuckled. "Imagine that," he murmured. The woman glared at him and Ron sat in the chair next to the bed.

"Well, okay. The basics, then, I suppose." He nodded to the man, who took his leave. The woman did not bid him goodbye. She kept her gaze on the red-haired man, waiting for him to speak. "You're Hermione Weasley," he said matter-of-factly, but added as an afterthought, "Hermione Granger, if you prefer."

The woman nodded. _Mrs. Weasley_, they had called her before. _Hermione_, had sounded more familiar, and _Granger_ seemed to fit much more nicely.

"So, I'm Hermione Granger," she said.

"Weas—" Ron started to protest, but stopped. "Yes. And, uh, you're twenty-five years old. And you're a—" He stopped again.

"I'm a what?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"A witch."

Hermione did not immediately speak. _Potions and spells and witches? This is absurd. _"You're off your rocker!" she nearly shouted after a moment. "A witch! Is this some kind of bloody joke?"

"No, it's n—what a minute, did you just say 'bloody?'" He looked extremely shocked and she shot him a quizzical look. Then he gave her a smug smile. "Who are you and what have you done with my wife, eh?"

He had obviously meant it as a joke, but it was certainly not the most appropriate time. He froze as soon as the words left his mouth. She did not give him time to mull over his mistake, however.

"I may not know who I am," she directed pointedly, "but I know I most certainly am _not_ your wife."

"Blimey, still just as insufferable," he muttered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing, nothing." He sighed heavily. "Are you interested on hearing what I have to say or not?"

"I suppose I don't have any other choice," she bit out.

His face twisted and she could see he was fighting his urge to snap at her. "As I was saying," he said through his teeth. "You. Are. A. Witch." He enunciated each word, staring her straight into her eyes. "Believe what you will," he added quickly, fearing she would interrupt again, "but you _are._ One of the brightest of our age, in fact. You graduated with top marks on your N.E.W.T.s from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardary. You work for the Ministry of Magic now, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Trying to give rights to those precious house elves of yours." He rolled his eyes at this admission, but she detected a sense of admiration in his voice.

"As far as you and I are concerned," he continued, using his fingers to motion between the two of them, "we have been unofficially dating since you were seventeen. We were married two years ago, although if Mum had her way, it would have been eight years ago." This time, the smile did form on his lips, although he tried to repress it.

_He's certainly a character,_ Hermione thought, and then spoke aloud, "I find all of this highly unlikely."

Ron snorted. "And why, exactly, is that?"

"Because I—" She closed her mouth. She did not have an answer for him, and wondered if she had only spoke up to spite him. Ron must have found her situation amusing, because he laughed and once again continued.

"Anyways, you're an only child, but my family more than makes up for that. You're extremely close with your parents. In fact, I'm fairly sure I will not be in your father's good graces for quite a while. They wanted to come home from holiday early, but I told him absolutely not." Hermione thought she should be upset that Ron had told her parents not to come see her, but the fact remained she could not remember her parents either. "So while it is usually extremely quiet at your Mum and Dad's, my parents' house is a different story. You have five brother-in-laws, four sister-in-laws, and as of right now four nieces and two nephews." His grin was very big as he narrated his—_her—_family. It was apparent he was extremely proud of the bunch and Hermione tried to share in his sentiment. But she just could not remember…

"Hermione, are you all right?"

"Hm?" she said.

Ron laughed again. "Your mouth is hanging open."

"Oh," she said, embarrassed. She closed her mouth quickly and then did her best to glare at him. But, he was smiling at her goofily and she found it difficult not to laugh at his bemused expression. Trying to hide her amusement, she asked, "Well, is that it for the basics then? Sounds like I am rather boring."

Ron laughed. "Hardly. Hermione, you didn't exactly live a _normal_ childhood." He paused. "Well I suppose you may have before you were eleven, but once you started at Hogwarts, you were far from it."

"Well, how can I be normal if I was a _witch_?"

"You _are_ a witch," Ron said. "But, even by wizarding standards, you were far from normal." Hermione scuffed, still unconvinced. "Besides, it would be impossible to tell you about the _basics_ of your past in a day, especially when I feel like it's more important to know about your present first."

"Is that what you think, then?" she questioned forcefully. "What if I don't agree?"

Ron's smile wavered for a moment, before jokingly saying, "It wouldn't be the first time you've disagreed with me."

She giggled and then quickly threw her hand over her mouth. _Why am I laughing? I don't know this man!_ She felt rather conflicted by the emotions she was feeling. While she could not remember anything about herself, and while she was determined to hold her own, she involuntarily felt herself drawn to Ron. _Perhaps, I did marry him. Maybe he's not so awful, huh?_ She did not answer herself though, instead studying Ron's features again. The more she looked at him, the more she _liked _to look at him. She could not remember feeling so conflicted in her life. _Then again, you idiot, you can't remember anything._

The door opened and the dark-skinned man from the day before entered, Healer Adams trailing behind.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," the man greeted, as Ron interjected, "Miss Granger."

The two men exchanged a look and the dark-skinned man nodded in understanding. "Miss Granger," he repeated. "I do not believe I have formally introduced myself. I am Healer Thomas." He extended his hand and Hermione took it. "I have been in charge of your care since your admittance into the hospital." Hermione nodded, but did not offer any other response or greeting. Healer Adams remained close to the door, scribbling away on a clipboard.

"Given your circumstances, Miss Granger," Healer Thomas continued, "we have done everything we can possibly do. Unfortunately, while we can ensure you are healthy and capable of caring for yourself, we cannot restore your lost memories."

"What are the chances," Ron spoke up, "that she'll regain them at all?" Hermione looked at him carefully, and she could see in his eyes that he already knew the answer. Healer Thomas addressed Hermione first.

"Do you want the answer to that question, Miss Granger?"

Hermione was not sure. She had overheard the conversation the two men had shared before, and she felt as if she too, knew the answer. However, she _had_ remembered something. The little girl. That girl _had_ to be her.

"I suppose so," she finally answered.

"The chances are not good, I'm afraid. When a person is inflicted with a memory charm, it erases their memories permanently. The only known way of restoring them is when the appropriate steps are taken to preserve them. Additionally, most memory charms are intended to remove single memories, or a small series of events of connected memories. The one that you were subjected to was extremely powerful and extremely rare. I have to tell you, you are extremely lucky."

"_Lucky!_" Ron snorted. Healer Thomas glared at him for a moment before continuing, his eyes focused on Hermione.

"In most cases, those inflicted with this spell do not survive. Our minds are not designed to be completely void. In fact, there is only one other person alive that has survived a spell of this magnitude." Healer Thomas directed his attention to Ron again, conveying a silent message. Hermione watched as Ron's forehead wrinkled in confusion, thinking. Finally, his muscles relaxed at the realization.

"Lockhart!" he exclaimed. Healer Thomas nodded.

"Who is Lockhart?" Hermione asked.

"He was, well, I guess the simplest explanation was he was an author, and at one point, a professor at Hogwarts," Ron started. "You fancied him," he added as an afterthought, chuckling. Hermione huffed.

"Regardless," Healer Thomas interrupted, continuing, "when he was hit with this memory charm, like you, it wiped all of his memories. However, unlike you, he went insane, and has spent the last twelve years in our long-term spell damage ward. So, yes, Mr. Weasley, I would consider Miss Granger _very_ lucky." Ron had slumped in his chair and had gone pale.

"Yes," he whispered quietly, "I suppose she is."

The room grew quiet and Hermione reflected on this new information she had been given. She was in agreement with Healer Thomas that she was, indeed, very lucky. Being told that you could possibly be _dead_ was not something she had expected to hear. And knowing that another man was _insane_ was quite scary. But, it prompted her to wonder how she was different. Why had people died and gone insane while she was alive and clearly all right?

"I—I remember some things," Hermione whispered after a moment of reflection.

The other three adults in the room stared at her in disbelief. Healer Adams began to scribble away again, this time much more excitedly.

"_What?_" Ron finally breathed, breaking the silence. Hermione suddenly felt nervous.

"What do you remember?" Healer Thomas inquired.

"Well, it isn't much," she admitted sheepishly. "I remember a little girl, with her parents. She's playing in the yard when she's younger, and then when she's older, at school where the boys are making fun of her. And then, there's a train station."

"Anything else?" It was Healer Adams who had spoken this time. She had a wide smile on her face, eager to record more of the memories Hermione remembered.

"Well, no," Hermione whispered. She saw Ron deflate.

"That's wonderful!" Healer Thomas said. His demeanor was the opposite of Ron's.

"Does that mean I will be able to remember more?" she asked hopefully.

Healer Thomas's excitement dissipated. He looked to her sadly and said, "I honestly do not know."

The room fell into silence again. Ron had buried his face in his hands, Healer Thomas and Hermione continued to stare at one another and Healer Adams held her quill tightly in her hand, desperate for more. Hermione was the first to break away from Healer Thomas's gaze. She closed her eyes, willing herself to remember something else. She needed to give the group hope. She needed to give _herself_ hope. She may have been lucky, and as quickly as the happiness at this revelation of her luck had come, it was gone again. Surely remembering something else would mean she had not actually _lost_ her memory. It was a long shot, she knew. Maybe all she needed was a trigger to help get her memories back.

With her mind made up, Hermione blurted, "Well, if that's all then, I would quite like it if I could go home."

Ron shot out of his chair so quickly it fell over, perhaps startling Hermione more than her statement. "Are you serious?" he asked in disbelief. "You _want _to come home?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" she replied. She really did not want him thinking she was _excited _to go home with him. However, she did not like the sadness in his eyes. "But, yes, I do _want _to. But only because it might help my memories."

"I'll get the discharge papers," Healer Adams offered, and she quickly left the room. Healer Thomas nodded to her as well, bidding his goodbye as he followed.

Hermione sat up straighter in her bed and realized she was still wearing a hospital gown. Ron must have noticed as well, because before she could ask about proper clothing, he was handing her an overnight bag. "I had Ginny—my sister—go over and get some things yesterday."

"Thank you." Hermione gave him a small smile as she gratefully took the bag.

"I think I might head home while you get ready. I should probably freshen up myself."

She eyed him suspiciously. "You haven't been home?" she asked in disbelief.

The tips of Ron's ears reddened and he said, "Well, no. I was worried about you. I couldn't leave."

"You were worried about me?"

"Well, of course." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, Hermione, I know this isn't going to be easy for you. Hell, it's not going to be easy for me either, if I am being completely honest. It's rough, knowing your wife doesn't remember you." Hermione began to feel the guilt. After all, it was not Ron's fault she could not remember him, and she had not exactly treated him with kindness.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Ron shook his head and came closer to the bed. He motioned to the bed, asking permission to sit. Hermione nodded and felt as the bed sank from his weight. Daringly, he took her hands in to his. When she did not protest, Ron relaxed.

"Hermione, I've known you since we were eleven years old. Naturally, I didn't know it at the time, but I loved you immediately. You were a know-it-all and insufferable at the best of times. But you have always been _brilliant_ and if it weren't for you, well, frankly, I dunno where I would be. It took us _years_ to finally get together. Do you really think I am going to throw away everything we had—everything we still have—because you don't remember me?"

Hermione stared at him, unsure of what to say. She felt his thumbs moving back and forth across her hands lovingly. The way he was looking at her made her slightly uncomfortable, but she was afraid of how she would feel if she did break the contact.

"I love you Hermione Granger, I always have and I always will."

His eyes were clouding and Hermione knew he was trying not to cry. The surge of emotion she felt was shocking. _This can't be all bad_, she told herself firmly. _He obviously cares about you very much. It isn't fair to take this man's life away from him just because you had yours taken from you_.

"Ron?" Hermione whispered.

"Yes?"

"If you don't mind, I think I might like trying to be Hermione Weasley." The words had barely left her mouth when she felt Ron's weight on top of her, his arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her immediate reaction had been to stiffen up, but she willed herself to relax. She tentatively returned his hug, patting his back awkwardly.

If Ron had noticed her hesitation at the hug, he gave her no indication. He had a wide smile on his face as he pulled away from her.

"Well, then," he said, standing. "I suppose I better make everything presentable. I'll be back in an hour to get you, yeah?" Hermione nodded and watched as he left her room. She fell back onto the pillow and sighed heavily.

_This isn't going to be simple_, she told herself. _Ron said you were brilliant though. It shouldn't be so hard, should it?_ She felt the tears run down her cheeks as she sobbed silently. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on something happy. The little girl's giggles filled her mind, her curls coming into view.

_There was a large blanket spread across the grass. The man and the woman were still holding the laughing little girl. The man was tickling her, inciting her giggles. The girl squirmed under her parents' grasps and the older woman could be heard laughing as well. _

"_Mummy—make—him—stop!" the girl squealed through her laughter, but it was apparent she was enjoying being tickled. Another fit of giggles overtook her and she finally managed to wiggle from her parents' arms. "My turn!" she yelled, suddenly attacking her father. He fell backwards onto the blanket, taking his daughter down with him. Her small fingers were attempting to tickle him, and although she was not successful, the man chuckled, appeasing his daughter. "I win," she replied smugly._

"_That you do," the man said, taking her into his arms and kissing her forehead. He pulled his wife into the embrace then, and the three lay contently on the blanket, together._

Hermione opened her eyes, a smile on her lips. _That is home_, she thought and began to prepare for Ron's return.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: <em>Please review. I am trying to get Chapter 8 of **I Never Knew You **up today as well, but I have been on a roll with this story. If I get enough reviews, I may be more motivated to finish Chapter 3 and post it before Tuesday, instead of waiting the entire week. Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Lights. Bright. White.**

_Summary_: After a case she's working goes wrong, Hermione Weasley wakes up in the hospital, her memories gone. Can she relearn the details of her life and fall in love with her husband again?

_Disclaimer: _I do not own, nor do I claim any rights to, Harry Potter or any associated themes, characters, places, or plots. This is for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this story. Not copyright infringement is intended.

_Author's Note: _Double update weekend! Thank you for those of you who read and reviewed Chapter 2. Thank you for all of your support!

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><p><strong>CHAPTER THREE: The Room<strong>

An hour later, as promised, Ron returned. Hermione was sitting on the edge of her hospital bed, her overnight bag resting on her lap. She smiled cheerfully at Ron as he stepped into the room. His hair was slightly damp and he was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and an orange t-shirt. _The Chudley Cannons_ was written across the front of the shirt in simple black lettering.

"What are the Chudley Cannons?" she asked, standing to greet him.

"There a Quidditch team; my favorite in fact."

"_Quid—_what?"

Ron blushed. "Sorry, I keep forgetting."

"Forgetting what?" Hermione snapped. "That I can't bloody remember _anything_?" She had not meant to sound so harsh. She knew it was not his fault, and she was truthfully more aggravated with her situation than with him.

"I really am sorry." He reached for her hand, but she denied him. He sighed. "Quidditch," he said instead, "is our sport. Like, soccer is for muggles." He paused. Hermione felt her face twist in aggravation again. "Muggles are non-magical people," he added quickly for clarification, anticipating her upset. "Yeah, as I was saying, it's our sport, played on broomsticks."

"_Broomsticks_?" She gave a half smile, torn between amusement and confusion. She still could not believe that this was _real_. _You don't know that for sure_, she reminded herself. She only had Ron's word to go on; she had not actually witnessed _anything_ to suggest she was a witch and had _magical_ powers.

Ron laughed and took her bag. "There's a cab waiting for us downstairs."

Hermione followed him out, deep in thought. _A cab_, she thought. _Well, that certainly _sounds_ normal. _She closed her eyes for a moment as Ron stopped at a large desk, informing the healers they were leaving.

_A black car. The girl, much older than three, sat in the back, sandwiched between her parents. Her father was talking to a man in the front seat behind the steering wheel. Outside the window, there were several other cars travelling around them, the streets crowded with people looking in shop windows._

"_Do you suppose there are cars at school, Mum?" the girl asked._

"_I'm not sure."_

"_How do you suppose they get around?"_

"_Shh," her mother chastised suddenly, the man in the front looking back at them through the window. His brow was furrowed, trying to determine what the girl was asking. _

"Hermione. Earth to Hermione."

"Huh?" She blinked her eyes a couple of times, trying to focus on the man in front her. She glared at him angrily, upset that he had torn her from this memory.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, sending her a worried look. She debated for a moment about telling him about the newest memory. She decided against it, not wanting to give him false hope. After all, she was not remembering much, and each time she did, it was of the young girl. While she felt sure it was her, there was not any proof.

"Yeah, fine," she said, forcing a smile. "Are we ready?"

"Yes." He held out his hand slowly and she took it as he led them down the stairs. Hermione tried to take in her surroundings, curious about the different wards of the magical hospital. But, Ron moved quickly and Hermione had to jog to keep up with his long strides. When they reached the bottom floor, Ron practically dragged her to the waiting car.

"Are _you_ okay?" she asked after catching her breath.

He turned to look at her. "Yeah," he said simply. "Why?"

"You walk too fast!"

He looked down at their joined hands and blushed. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"You also apologize too much!" she chastised again.

"Sor—"

"Don't!" Hermione wondered briefly if this was normal for their _relationship_. If it was, she couldn't imagine how either one of them could be happy if all he ever did was apologize. She looked at his reddened cheeks and realized he was probably as nervous around her as she was around him. She remembered what he had told her earlier that morning, that he would love her always. She felt the heat coming to her own cheeks then. When she caught his eye, they both began laughing for no apparent reason.

"Shall we?" he offered, opening the door to the cab. She nodded and slid in. Ron gave their address to the driver and Hermione relaxed into the seat. She watched the various buildings and people pass by and then said: "Ron, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Is this—well, is this usually the way we travel?" It came out barely above a whisper. Ron leaned in.

"What?" he whispered back.

"This cab," she clarified. "Is this usually the way we get around?"

Ron looked to the driver to ensure he was not paying any attention. Then, he shook his head. "No. I've only been in a car a handful of times in my life. And that was mainly back and forth to the train station. And that time Harry and I stole Dad's Ford in second year."

"You what!" Her voice was louder now and the driver eyed them from the window.

"Shhhh! I'll explain later."

Emitting an annoyed huff, Hermione fell back against the seat, ignoring Ron the rest of the journey. Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled into a large neighborhood, with quaint little homes and large front yards. Hermione noticed small children playing in one of the yards and she was reminded of the little girl in her memories. The driver pulled alongside a small brick home with dark red shutters and stopped. Hermione gaped at the house. It certainly was nothing spectacular, but somehow, it was beautiful. There was a large tree in the front and well-manicured bushes along the front. As Ron paid the driver, Hermione got out, following the path to the front door.

"Well?" Ron asked, coming up behind her. "What do you think?"

"I like it," she whispered.

"We live in a muggle neighborhood," he began to explain. "We are fairly close to your parents' place—about 10 minutes or so. That's what you wanted, when we got married, was to be close to them." Hermione nodded. It made sense to want to be close to her parents, but the tone in Ron's voice alerted her to the fact that there was more to the story. She wanted to ask him, but he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. "It took a lot of adjustments for me, living here," he explained. "Have to watch how much magic you're doing and all."

He stepped aside and allowed her entrance into the home. Ron shut the door behind her and said, "Suppose I should give you the tour, eh?" Hermione nodded and he took the lead.

Immediately to their right was the sitting room. There was a large window which allowed the room to be filled with light. There was a fireplace along the far wall, surrounded by floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled to capacity with books. "They're all yours," Ron said, noticing her awed expression. "I reckon you've read all of them at least three times over, if not more."

He then led her to the kitchen, which was rectangular in shape and had dark wood cabinets. She noticed immediately the counters were bare, and something inside her told her that definitely was not normal. Although she could not remember anything specifically, she _knew_ kitchens had appliances and this kitchen was seriously lacking. But, she supposed wizards did not need a variety of gadgets to make their food and drink. Shrugging it off, she turned her attention to the next room Ron was showing her. A dining room was immediately off the kitchen, and the small table made the room look much larger than it should.

"We bought this house two weeks before we got married," Ron explained. "We did not have much furniture and your parents helped us with deposit." He blushed. "Took a bit of my pride, asking for that," he admitted. Hermione did not know why, but she extended a comforting hand. "Anyway, we've slowly been working up our collection of furniture. We recently bought the couch that was in the sitting room. Next thing on the list is outfitting the dining room. It's been quite nice living in this neighborhood. Our neighbors are quiet and they don't bother us. We have four bedrooms, although it only had two when we purchased it." He smiled mischievously. "Your parents were very shocked the first time they visited after the remodel. Could not believe we had added two more bedrooms without contractors."

"We did?"

"Well, yes!" he exclaimed. "Otherwise, where would we have kept all your books?" He laughed and squeezed her hand. "Our bedroom is nice; we bought a new bedroom set last year, for your birthday. You did all the decorating, so there is no orange. I quite miss it, if I am being honest."

"Why would you miss orange?" she inquired.

"My bedroom, at home, was orange."

She looked at him in disbelief. But, then she looked at his shirt again and realized. It was all for that team of his he liked so much. "Well, I'm glad you let me chose," she said, smiling. "I don't think my eyes could have taken orange!" They both laughed and Hermione said, "Shall I see the rest of the house? I would like to see those bedrooms added with magic!"

Ron looked nervous for a moment and then said, "How about we have a cup of tea first? I'm actually really thirsty."

Hermione could not understand his erratic behavior. He had seemed very excited to have her come home. Surely he wanted to help her relive her memories. She was also a bit disappointed. She had thought coming here would help, but so far, nothing had come to her. Sighing, she nodded, following Ron back into the kitchen as he prepared tea. She watched him closely as he took out a stick and starting waving it. Immediately, a kettle began steaming and two mugs flew to him from the cabinets.

"How—how are you doing _that_?" she whispered.

Ron looked at her as if she had no common sense. "With my wand…" he trailed off, raising his eyebrows. When he saw how upset she looked though, he added sadly, "You really don't remember _anything_ about our world, do you?" Hermione shook her head and Ron said, "I'll be right back."

He headed back into the sitting room, Hermione assumed, and a moment later reappeared, holding another stick.

"This is yours."

He handed her the stick and Hermione tentatively took it into her hands. She did not know what to do with it and looked at Ron in anticipation.

"Give it a wave," he urged. Feeling quite silly, Hermione took one end of the wand into her right hand. Ron stepped forward and took the wand from her, turning it over. "Like this." She could not help but send him a loathsome look for correcting her. It was bad enough that she could not remember, especially when it seemed as if she was not only very smart, but knew much more than he did.

Gripping it tightly, Hermione flicked the wand to the right. Nothing happened and Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron. _This is a trick! They have been playing me this entire time!_ She poised to tell him as much, flicking the wand back to the left when suddenly the two mugs Ron had retrieved shattered on the counter. Her eyes widened in fear and she dropped the wand. Ron too, seemed as if he had not expected something to break, and he slowly reached down to pick up the fallen wand.

"I—I—I—" Hermione stammered. She could not form any other words, let another complete a thought. Ron handed her the wand again.

"Let's try something a little more… structured," he suggested. He held his own wand out in front of him and said, "_Lumos._" Her jaw dropped when the tip of the wand was illuminated brightly. "Go on," he said, "you try."

Shaking, Hermione held out her own wand in front of her and said, "_Lumos._" Sure enough, a light identical to Ron's wand appeared at the tip of hers.

"Do you believe me now?" Ron asked smugly.

"Hmph," Hermione said, torn between awe and spite.

"_Nox_," Ron whispered and his wand went out and he nodded to Hermione to do the same. With both wands sans light, Ron summoned two more mugs and finished preparing the tea. Hermione leaned against the counter. She felt dizzy and overwhelmed, and she gripped the edge of the granite for support. Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes again.

_A classroom. The curly haired girl was sitting next to a boy with bright red hair. Both had frowns upon their faces; the boy had his arms crossed tightly across his chest. _

"_Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick," a short man was saying at the front of the classroom. _

_The red haired boy sat up and held out his wand. He pointed it at a feather that sat on the table in front of him. "Windgardium Leviosa," he was shouting and he waved his arms around in large circles. _

_The brown haired girl, the girl from the train station, leaned up then and snapped, "You're saying it wrong! It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa."_

"_You do it, then, if you're so clever," the boy snarled._

_The girl smiled widely and with one solid flick of her wand said, "Wingardium Leviosa!" The feather rose from the table with ease, floating about the couple's heads. _

"Hermione?" She sucked in a breath—again he was interrupting her memories. But she could not be angry with him this time, for this had been a new memory, a new memory in which she was sure had contained Ron!

"Ron!" she shouted. "I saw you! I saw us!" If Ron had been holding the mugs of tea, they too, would have shattered much in the same way as the first two. His eyes grew and he opened and closed his mouth several times.

"You—you _did_?" he breathed.

"Yeah, I dunno where we were. A classroom maybe. At—at—"

"Hogwarts?" Ron supplied.

"Yeah, and we were young. Maybe twelve? I'm not sure. But, we were learning a spell." She tried to retrieve the memory again. "What was it? _Wing-gar-_something or another. I made a feather hover in the air!"

Ron's eyes lit up and he smiled knowingly. "First year," he muttered. "We were eleven."

"I don't think we liked each other much," she told him.

Ron shook his head and smirked. "No, not much."

"I could tell. You weren't doing the spell right and I corrected you."

"That happened a lot actually," Ron shared. "In fact, today might be the first time I have ever had to show you how to do a spell properly. It's been the other way around for years." He handed her the mug then and she drank from it gratefully. She had not realized she was thirsty. "Was there anything else?" he questioned.

"No. They are always so short." She thought for a moment before adding, "You kind of keep interrupting them."

"Oh. Well, it's a start, yeah?" he said hopefully. Hermione nodded in agreement. They sipped their tea in silence for several minutes before Hermione spoke.

"What do I do—at the Ministry? You said I work with magical creatures? That must be exciting!"

Ron snorted into his tea and Hermione glared. "You don't always work with them directly. You're, well, you're more of an advocate for their rights. You fight against those who treat them unfairly. You're quite good at what you do. Won several cases, actually."

"I have?"

"Yeah." He smiled proudly. "In fact, you've recently created a law to give House Elves the same rights as others who work—wages, time off, holidays. Most of them still are quite appalled by what you have done, but I think most are appreciative."

"House Elves?" Hermione asked. Ron just stared at her. Hermione repeated herself, thinking Ron had simply not heard her.

"I know what you said," Ron answered. "I guess I thought that maybe, if you remembered nothing else, you would remember the house elves. You've only been trying to get them a 'better quality life' since you were thirteen!"

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, although she knew she had not done anything wrong.

Ron shook his head. "No, no. I need to stop being so insensitive. Sensitivity was never my best quality," he joked. "House Elves are elves who are—were—enslaved to work in wealthy wizarding homes. They did all the basic chores and such for free and frankly were treated worse than dirt. But now, they still do all the chores, but they are paid. Mind you, it's not much, but it is an improvement."

_Wow. I've done something worthwhile, _Hermione thought and she laughed along with Ron.

"This isn't going to be easy, is it?" she asked after a moment, changing the mood.

Ron shook his head sadly. "No, I don't think so."

"Is there a lot?" she asked. "I mean, is there a lot that I have to remember?"

"Everything," Ron said. He took a deep breath. "It seems like basic things, everyday things, might come easy. I mean, you still can walk and talk and you know what a car is. But, we've lived such full lives. There's a lot. Too much. You have accomplished a lot, and I guess I should go ahead and tell you now, you're pretty well known in our world."

"I am?"

"We both are. Harry too."

_Harry. _"Harry sounds familiar."

"He should. He's a large part of our lives. He was there this morning, when you woke up. He's been our best friend since we started school. It's been the three of us for years, and he may as well have been our brother. He is now, brother-in-law, anyways," he laughed. "Married my sister five years ago. But, uh, yeah, as I was saying, we're well known and all. Our world has not always been such a great place. Years and years ago, there was a dark wizard who was determined to control the wizarding world." He stopped and said, "This is going to be an extremely short version, I'll warn you now."

Hermione nodded. She wanted a full story, but she knew it was not feasible to ask for the full story at this time.

"When Harry was a baby, he was targeted by the wizard—Voldemort—because of some prophecy. Harry's parents were killed, but because of the protection his mum had provided, Harry miraculously survived. He was hidden away for years, until it was time to come to Hogwarts. And every year, Voldemort tried to kill Harry, but every year, through some kind of dumb luck, Harry eluded him, with our help of course. Finally, in what would have been our seventh year, we went into hiding, looking for something called horcruxes—I'll explain this later too—that would help defeat Voldemort. So, all in all, the three of us, along with many, many others, defeated him once and for all."

"Wow," was all Hermione could manage.

"Mind you, like I said, that is an extremely condensed version. I told you this morning that I actually think it's more important for you to start remembering the present, rather than the future."

"I remember," she said. "But, I don't really understand. Doesn't it make more sense to build up to it? Wouldn't the old memories help the most recent?"

"I thought that too," Ron agreed, "until I talked to Dean—Healer Thomas, that is. He told me they've never quite seen a case like yours. You're kind of in the middle of the memory loss spectrum. Usually, it can be repaired because the memories were preserved, or the memories that were taken were so singular that it does not affect the person's daily life. Or, it is so severe, that you either die, or you go insane. You, well, you seemingly lost all of your memories, but somehow, you are remembering some things. You said they weren't long or detailed, but they are there. This probably isn't the correct way to go about things, but trust me, when I tell you what's so important, you'll understand."

"Well, then, _what_ is so important?"

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. His forehead was scrunched in thought. Finally he said, "Let's see the rest of the house."

"But—" Hermione started to protest, but Ron grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet.

He walked her back out of the kitchen and down a hallway. He opened the first door to the left, revealing an office. It was simple, a large desk under the window, and more bookshelves filled with books. He told her this was her office, and she spent most of her evenings in this room, finalizing cases. The next room, almost directly across from it, was a nicely decorated guest room.

"These were the two original rooms," Ron explained. He then nodded further down the hallway. "There's a bathroom right there," he said, pointing to another door on the left. "And there, at the end of the hallway, is our addition."

He pulled her eagerly down the hall and opened the door. She immediately knew this had to be their bedroom. Ron had been right, no orange. It was painted a light blue color, and the bed clothes matched perfectly. Everything was nice and neat in its place. To the right of the room were two double doors, opened to reveal the master bathroom. There was a large tub that Hermione thought had to be extremely relaxing. Ron was not concerned with showing her the bathroom, instead pulling her towards a door to the left.

"This, Hermione, is why it is so important you remember the present." He hesitated for a moment before reaching for the doorknob. Time seemed to slow as he turned it and Hermione was quite nervous to see what was in that room. When he finally opened the door, she felt her knees go weak.

The walls were painted a pale yellow and circus wallpaper adorned the top of the walls. In the corner was a white crib, a mobile already hung. A rocking chair was in the opposite corner, a large teddy bear sitting on top.

"You're three months pregnant," Ron said at the same exact moment Hermione realized it. Her hand flew to her stomach. Shock overtook her body and suddenly, everything went black.

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><p><em>Author's Note #1<em> Well, I bet you weren't expecting that, were you? :) When I started this story, I knew I wanted a twist on the whole memory loss stories. I have also been toying with a baby fic, and I thought this was the perfect way to do both.

Additionally, if this story seems choppy, it's because it _is_. She lost her memory, and naturally there is _no way possible _to tell someone everything that has happened in their lives in perfect order. Things will be out of order and shortened, because obviously, there are more important things in Hermione's life than remembering her Hogwarts years.

_Author's Note #2 _I thought this was funny to point out, only because I know Hermione would appreciate it. While typing this chapter in MW, the sentence: "House elves are elves who are—were—enslaved to work in wealthy wizarding homes." MW wanted me to correct who to that. Merlin forbid I referred to house elves as "that." : )

**Please don't forget to review! I hope everyone has a great week. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Lights. Bright. White.**

_Summary_: After a case she's working goes wrong, Hermione Weasley wakes up in the hospital, her memories gone. Can she relearn the details of her life and fall in love with her husband again?

_Disclaimer: _I do not own, nor do I claim any rights to, Harry Potter or any associated themes, characters, places, or plots. This is for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from this story. Not copyright infringement is intended.

_Author's Note: _I know excuses are excuses either way, but I would still like to apologize. I am not sure if I ever mentioned this or not, but I am a teacher (and I teach a very young grade...) and for those of you who are familiar with the education system know that things are beginning to change. It's a lot more work than anyone ever cares to imagine (I HATE when people say, "Oh you're a teacher... you only work until 3 pm and have weekends and long holidays and summer vacations!" UH NO! I work until 6 pm most nights, take work home with me EVERY weekend, and my holidays/summers are spent preparing things for the next semester/school year. Yet, I only get paid for HALF of the work I do...). /end rant.

Anywho, between all this extra stuff I have to do and my kids completely losing their minds these last couple weeks (seriously!), I honestly have not felt much like writing. Every night that I have come home, I have added a couple chapters to this and a couple chapters to _I Never Knew You_, but I am so tired at the end of the day, I can't focus and I go to bed at 7:30 instead... So I am sorry for the delays in both of my stories.

I would like to **thank all of my reviewers** (personal messages did not make it out this time around...): DJxDANGAAxCRNPPS, Lily Luna 731 (I hope you enjoy the interaction. I like your idea, and will be sure to credit you if I use it), Punzie the Platypus, Portkey To Heaven, LillyMay77, Loli-pop0394, ObsessedRHShipper, Beasley, fatty73, HelloItsErika, Gjg1 (plenty of hits, I assure you...), saturnspell, rhmac12. YOU ARE ALL WONDERFUL!

I had the most reviews for Chapter 3 thus far. Can we change that for Chapter 4?

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><p><strong>CHAPTER FOUR: The Kiss<strong>

Darkness. It was an odd sensation, waking up to complete blackness, when before it had been so bright. Hermione opened her eyes slowly, fearing she was only imagining the dark room, sure the lights would blind her at any moment. Once she felt sure the lights would not appear, she tried to take in her surroundings. As her eyes adjusted, she realized she was lying in a bed. Was she still at the hospital? This bed was too comfortable, too soft to belong in a hospital room. Hermione sat up and threw her legs over the side of the bed. She had to find a light switch. It was impossible to distinguish where she was in the dark. Hermione shuffled across the floor slowly, arms outstretched, anticipating the wall. She frowned when she could not find the familiar plate of a switch.

"Honestly, how thick could you be?"

Hermione's head shot up. It was a woman's voice. Her forehead scrunched in thought, unable to place the voice. _In fact_, she realized, _I have no idea where I am either_.

"Oi! Keep your voice down! She's sleeping!" A man's voice had countered the first and this one she _did_ recognize. Almost immediately, the last couple of days came flooding back to her in rapid succession. The hospital. Her memory loss. The things she had been told.

_I'm Hermione Granger—Hermione Weasley. There was an accident and I lost my memories. I am _witch_, of all bloody things I could be told. And I'm—I'm pregnant._ Hermione pressed her forehead to the wall for support, breathing deeply. She placed her hand on her stomach and felt for the first time a very small bump, gone unnoticed before. Being told she was a witch had been unbelievable in itself, but _this_, well this she was not quite sure how she would handle. She did not know herself, her husband, her _life_, how was she supposed to bring a baby into a world she herself did not know?

"I'm sorry, mate, but I have to agree with Ginny on this one." It was a second man's voice, and Hermione again recognized it. _The man from this morning_, she thought. _Harry_, Ron had said.

She heard Ron scoff. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Take it slow!" the woman shrieked. "She's only just woken up and she doesn't _remember_ herself!"

"How slow am I supposed to go? Really, Ginny, it could take ages for her to remember anything, and even longer if I have to _tell_ her everything. Dean said the chances of her recalling much of her life is rare. I mean, he said that every day things and even common spells would come back as she got back into routine, but any memories of her past are likely gone forever." He paused. Hermione thought she heard him choke back a sob. "I don't know what to do."

Hermione lifted her head from the wall, struggling to hear more of the conversation. Their voices had softened, and she could not make out the muffled words Ginny spoke. _Ginny, Ron's sister, my sister-in-law. _Hermione sighed, struggling with an internal battle. She was not quite sure if she wanted to emerge from the room, but she felt it necessary to make her appearance known. She felt uncomfortable eavesdropping and they were her _family_. It was only right she go and meet—see—them. Reaching for the doorknob, she breathed deeply through her nose and headed down the hallway.

When she reached the sitting room, Ron was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, labored sobs escaping. Ginny, who Hermione noticed had the same striking red hair as her brother, was sitting beside him, an arm wrapped tenderly around his shoulders. Her other hand was placed on his knee, and she was patting him comfortingly. Harry was standing beside the pair, his back to Hermione. His hands were stuffed into his pockets, and his pose indicated he was uncomfortable.

"I just feel so helpless," Ron was saying. "I mean, it's like I'm letting her down all over again. I'm supposed to protect her."

"You couldn't have known, mate," Harry said, shuffling his feet. Ron sighed heavily and Ginny shot Harry a look.

"What if—what if she never remembers? What if she doesn't love me anymore? What if she doesn't want this life?" His sobs escalated then and Hermione found her own eyes tearing. His fears were not irrational. Although she had not yet thought of these possibilities, there were plausible. After all, she did not know Ron, did not know herself. She could not remember what loving Ron felt like. She did not feel a pull towards him, like she assumed love would create.

"Ron," Ginny soothed. "You can only take it day by day."

Ron looked up then, seemingly to look at his sister. Instead, his bloodshot eyes met Hermione's.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed, trying to wipe away his eyes quickly. He scrambled from his seat but once he was up, he did not make any further movements.

"Hi," Hermione whispered sheepishly.

Ginny had turned now and was staring intently at Hermione. Hermione felt her cheeks warm under the woman's intense gaze.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry interrupted and Hermione gladly turned her attention to him. He was smiling warmly at her and without thinking, Hermione stuck her hand out, offering a hand shake. Harry's smile wavered for a moment, but he awkwardly accepted her hand. His hand was soft, and he held hers gently as they moved up and down in a clumsy handshake.

"Did you, uh, sleep well?" Ron inquired then, eyeing his wife and friend cautiously.

Hermione released Harry's hand and turned to Ron. "Yes, I think so. I don't really remember sleeping." No one else spoke for a moment, and Hermione focused her attention on the wooden floor beneath her feet.

"We woke you, didn't we?" Ginny finally asked.

"No," Hermione protested. "I only heard you after." Hermione saw Ginny and Ron exchange a look.

Ron made a move towards her then, outstretching his arm. "Would you like to come sit down?" Hermione nodded and allowed him to lead her to the couch. She sat next to Ginny, expecting Ron to take up on her other side. She felt oddly grateful when he sat across from her in an armchair. Harry joined the group next to his own wife and again, silence blanketed the room.

In turn, each member of the group opened and closed their mouths, trying to think of something to say to ease the tension.

"So, I'm pregnant, eh?" Hermione said awkwardly, which proved to be a poor attempt at humor.

Ginny gave a small giggle, in which Harry and Ron followed. And suddenly, the tension was broken. "That would be my dear brother's fault," Ginny blamed through laughter. "I tried to warn you."

Hermione forced a smile—she obviously could not remember Ginny's warning, but she was sure it had been in good fun.

"How are you feeling, Hermione?" Harry asked, clearly attempting to change the subject.

"As good I suppose I can." She sighed. "I'm sorry. This is all a bit awkward for me. I don't understand why I can't at least remember simple things." Harry nodded, but offered no other words.

"Hermione," Ron said from his armchair. "If you're up for it, we could tell you some things from the past." He said all of this very slowly, and Hermione studied him intently. He had gotten his wish of telling her why the present was so important, and while she agreed, she was desperate for more memories of her past. She could not focus on this present life with Ron and a family if she did not remember how she had come into such a life. She felt in her heart that she was very happy with Ron, but without her memories, she could not grasp that emotion. She was still clinging to fear, anger, and confusion.

"I would like that," she finally said after a moment.

"Suppose we should start from the very beginning, eh, Ron?" Harry laughed, a twinkle in his eye. "What was it? 'Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow…'"

"Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow!" Ron finished with a smile. Hermione only stared. "We met for the first time on the Hogwarts Express, on our way to begin our first year at Hogwarts," Ron began to explain. "Harry and I had only just begun talking, and I was so awed by him. You see, Hermione, I told you that you didn't have a normal childhood even by wizarding standards, yeah? Well, all that stuff I told you about Harry is the reason it wasn't so normal. And our fate was sealed that day on the train.

"Anyhow, you came barging into our compartment, Miss Know-It-All—" Hermione glared, but Ron's grin did not falter. "—looking for Neville Longbottom's toad. All was forgotten when you saw me attempting that worthless spell the twins had given me. Quick to tell me I was doing it all wrong and you had to show me up."

"Match made in heaven, the two of you were," Harry piped up. "None of us knew it then. In fact, we didn't quite like you there in the beginning, Hermione." Ron blushed.

"Mostly my fault," Ron said. "Halloween changed it all, though."

"What happened on Halloween?" Hermione asked. The shine in Ron's eyes diminished slightly as he began to recall the memory.

"I had said some nasty things to you that afternoon. I would have never been able to forgive myself if something happened. Professor Quirrell let in a troll—part of the whole Voldemort thing—and you were in the girls' bathroom crying. Naturally, that's where the troll ended up." Ron stopped, a faraway look in his eyes. "It was so long ago, but it still haunts me," he admitted.

"Ron was brilliant," Harry added. "He finally mastering _Wingardium Leviosa _saved your life."

"So you got it then?" Hermione asked, looking at Ron.

"Got what?" Ginny asked in confusion.

"Oh! Oh right!" Ron exclaimed. "I forgot to tell you," he said, addressing Harry and Ginny. "This afternoon, she remembered the Charms lesson from that day." Ginny suddenly dissolved into a fit of giggles. All eyes turned to her.

"Sorry," she breathed. "I remember the letter Ron had sent home that afternoon. He was so mad."

"Thinking back, it _was_ pretty funny," Harry said. Hermione stayed quiet, unable to add anything to the conversation. Instead, she leaned against the cushions, closing her eyes. _Maybe_, she thought, _maybe if I concentrate hard enough, more will come_. She removed her thoughts from the room, blocking out the others' voices. She focused on the blackness of her eyelids, hoping, willing for something, anything. After a moment, she sighed in frustration, unable to see anything and she opened her eyes again. When she did, Ron was staring at her with a worried look in his eyes.

"You okay?" he asked quietly. Harry and Ginny were still in their own conversation, and Hermione was thankful Ron was not bringing the attention back to her. Hermione nodded and waited for Harry and Ginny to stop talking.

"What else happened that year?" Hermione asked as soon as the room grew quiet. If she could not remember on her own, she was very interested in others' interpretations of her life.

"Loads," Ron said simply.

Ginny rolled her eyes as Harry shook his head at Ron's lack of tact. Hermione found herself smiling.

"Well, after Halloween," Harry began to explain, "it became more and more apparent Voldemort was coming after me sooner rather than later…"

The next couple of hours passed, the room filled with joyous and sometimes frightful memories. Hermione sat quietly, gasping and laughing at the appropriate moments as Ron, Harry, and Ginny told her stories from her time at school. She knew there were gaps in their stories; sometimes they were blatantly missing, other times she could tell the story teller deemed them irrelevant. Regardless, she absorbed as much as she could, hoping she would start to remember something. However, their memories triggered no real emotion inside her, and in fact, as the evening wore on, she felt more drained then rejuvenated.

Ron obviously could see how tired she was becoming, and although they had only made it to fifth year, Ron signaled for his brother-in-law to stop. Harry nodded knowingly as Hermione struggled to keep her eyes open.

"Well, I guess we better get going then," Harry said, standing. Ginny followed immediately, adding, "Yeah, I'm sure Mum is ready to give James back."

Hermione perked up. "James?" She felt herself standing now.

Ginny shot Ron a look, but her merely shrugged as if to say _'What did you expect?'_

"He's our son," Harry explained, ignoring the exchanged between the two redheads. "A year and a half now. Quite the handful, actually." He laughed and Hermione gave him a smile. She momentarily thought of her own growing child, one that she had forgotten.

"We could bring him by tomorrow," Ginny interrupted, and then added as an afterthought, "if you would like."

"I think I would like that very much," Hermione said, actually feeling quite excited at the prospect of meeting her young nephew.

Ginny smiled warmly and stepped closer to Hermione. She hesitated for a moment before pulling her into an awkward hug. Hermione stiffed for a moment as Ginny's arms enveloped her shoulders. Hermione slowly returned the gesture and almost immediately after Hermione's hands touched her back, Ginny was pulling away. Hermione could not be sure, but she thought she had seen tears in the other woman's eyes, but Ginny was quick to hide her face.

"Tomorrow, then?" Harry asked, although he did not step forward as his wife had. Hermione merely nodded, contemplating offering her hand as she had done before. Harry adverted her eyes however, instead reaching out for Ginny. Ron followed them from the room, seemingly leading them to the front door, and Hermione fell back onto the couch and sighed in defeat.

_She was standing in the middle of a forest, surrounded by trees. It was raining heavily and her clothes were already soaked through. Her bushy hair was matted to her face, but she knew she was crying._

_"Ron! RON!" she screamed, although she knew it was no use. He was already gone. She choked back sobs as she continued to call his name._

_Her tears began to subside as she felt the anger rise inside her. _How could he be so thick? _she thought._

_Shivering from the cold and rain, she turned away from the trees, walking towards the tent. Harry was still standing in the middle of the room, a bewildered expression on his face._

_"He's g-g-gone! Disapparated!" she managed. She threw herself into the nearest chair, allowing the sobs to overtake her again. She felt the mixed emotions of anger and sadness, unsure of which was more prevalent. She pulled her knees to her chin, hiding her face from Harry. As she cried, she felt him throw a blanket over her. Although thankful for his gesture, she could not bring herself to acknowledge him. Her only focus was on Ron, upset and worried about where he had disappeared to and if he would be okay._

When Hermione opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Ron. He was leaning against the doorway, watching her intently. He clearly had not noticed she had opened her eyes. She took the opportunity to study him as well. He was looking at her with care and adoration, a small smile on his lips. She narrowed her eyes, suddenly uncertain of his character. Where had she been? It was clear, she had been with Harry in the middle of the forest, and obviously, Ron had just abandoned them for reasons unknown. She involuntarily shivered, recalling how she had stood in the rain, calling out his name. Had she done something wrong? Had Harry?

"Why did you leave us?" she suddenly felt herself saying. Ron jumped at the sound of her voice, his smile instantly disappearing.

"W—What?" he stammered.

"When were we with Harry?" she asked. "In a forest?"

Ron frowned, realization appearing on his face. "Oh," he said quietly.

"I was out in the rain, calling for you. But you had gone." She knew she did not have to explain, as it was clear Ron knew exactly what she was talking about.

"When we were looking for the horcruxes—"

"What _exactly _is a horcrux?" she asked, interrupting his explanation.

Ron sighed. "It's dark magic. When you split your soul, you put the pieces into an object, making it a horcrux. It's dangerous enough, splitting your soul into two separate pieces. Voldemort split his into _seven_." Hermione looked at him in disbelief. _He has got to be kidding me_. Ron ignored her. "We had found a piece of it, which had found its new home in this locket. We had no idea how to destroy it—it was the first we had actually found—and in the mean time we were stuck taking turns wearing it. It did awful things to my thoughts while I was wearing it. And, it didn't help that I—that I—" He stopped.

"That you what?"

"I was jealous of you and Harry," he admitted.

Hermione met his eyes. "Were Harry and I—were we _together_?"

Ron looked horrified. "No!" he exclaimed, and then stated more quietly. "No. But, I was an idiot back then, imagined things that weren't really there. You see, Hermione, I had tried so hard for _years_ to convince myself you were only my friend, that you would only see me as your _friend—_second to Harry Potter—that I refused to acknowledge my feelings for you. Instead, I allowed myself to be jealous of every guy you came in contact with, and I especially hated those who showed an interest in you." Hermione continued to stare, unsure of what to say.

"Well, anyway, in my insane fit of jealousy, I picked a fight with Harry. It started to get out of hand, and you stopped it. However, I was such a prat I just saw it as you taking his side and I—well, I left." He hung his head as he finished his story.

Hermione felt paralyzed. The room felt heavy with emotion. While the weight of Ron's past rested on his shoulders once more, Hermione's confusion weighed on hers. Several moments past before Ron spoke again.

"I know it doesn't mean much," he whispered. "But I've never forgiven myself for leaving."

"Did it make you feel better?" Hermione found herself asking. Ron looked up again to meet her gaze. She was frowning at him, suddenly hurt by the realization that the man who she was married to had once turned his back on her.

Ron shook his head. "My biggest regret."

Hermione nodded. "How long did I take to forgive you?" she whispered.

Ron looked as if he was fighting his emotions, refusing to give into the temptation of crying. "A while. You were really upset when I first came back, but with everything else that was happening, none of us could focus on it for too long. The war and all… Anyway, when everything was over, you told me that while you loved me, we were going to have a lot to work through. And we did. The first year of our relationship was extremely rocky…" He trailed off and did not elaborate further. Hermione remained silent, processing the information.

"You, uh, you can have our room," Ron stated after a tense moment had passed. "I'll sleep in the spare." He took a few steps forward, his movements awkward. Hermione knew he was just as uncomfortable around her as he was around him. "Look, Hermione," he was rubbing his neck, "I'm really sorry… for everything." He leaned forward.

Hermione's body instantly responded and she felt herself meeting his gaze. She broke eye contact almost immediately, suddenly focused on his slightly puckered lips. Again, her body responded without consulting her mind and they drew closer. She closed her eyes, trying to prepare herself. And then, at the last instant, Hermione looked down quickly, and she felt Ron's lips collide with her forehead. _I'm just not ready_, she rationalized with herself.

Ron pulled away. He looked at her sadly, but nodded, understanding.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He gave her a small smile but made no further movements. Hermione returned the sentiment and then turned, headed back down the hallway, not allowing herself a second glance at the man she was supposed the love, the man she no longer knew.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note <em>I am sorry if Ron seems to OOC. While I know he is not a perfect gentleman (and I wouldn't want him any other way), he is being more cautious around Hermione. He is trying to get her to love him remember? Poor Ron though... always so clueless. Hermione NEVER wanted a gentleman, did she? :)

On a side note, I still have not been able to see The Vow. I am hoping my husband will take me this weekend...


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